Power Struggles
by Ayla Pascal
Summary: Herein contains genetics, marriage, espionage and politics. After all, the wizarding world is self-destructing and it is up to Hermione, Ron, Harry and Draco to save it. RHr and will be HD.
1. Default Chapter

Author Notes: Thank you to my beta reader Beth.  
  
Prologue: Shadows of the Past  
  
His long fingers caressed the dry crackling pages, making a lazy waft of perfume tickle his nose, as his eyes drifted across the large clear words on the book. Furrows appeared across the man's forehead and his foot tapped a slow beat on the plasti-marble floor. Unconsciously his fingers came up and pushed a lock of red hair out of his face.  
  
He flipped a page slowly, concentration exuding from him, making his hallowed features appear almost interesting. He pursed his thin lips as his right hand unconsciously traced the entwined R and H on the cover.  
  
Ron and Hermione Weasley. The most celebrated and remembered two of their time. Of course, there was their school time friend Harry Potter, famous since birth, but his fame diminished with age, whereas theirs only increased. Every magical child born in the past hundred years had to study this text, but this wasn't why the man was reading it with such intensity.  
  
There was a sound as another page was flipped.  
  
No, the man was reading his history - his family history. He was reading an account of the struggles of his ancestors after the Dark War. Political struggles. Social struggles. Economical struggles. But none of these interested the man. He was interested in the personal struggles, the pain of being a pariah, and the stigma that his ancestress was labelled with. Double-D. A blessing. yet a curse.  
  
The society after the Dark War was fragile. Trust had to be rebuilt along with the buildings surrounding Diagon Alley. Muggles had to be pacified, for terror rampaged through the world's largest cities telling of strange men and women who killed with light. People were angry, angry for the pain that had come to their families. The bubbling simmering anger had been bottled up in the Years of Peace had only just been set free to burn its course. But most of all, the people were afraid.  
  
The people remembered. They remembered a charming boy who grew into the Dark Lord. They remembered the smiling ministry officials who donned black cloaks after dark. They remembered the betrayal that ripped at society's fabric. They were afraid of difference, of change. They clung to the old ways and shunned the new. They ostracised the different, allowing seeds of hatred to blossom.  
  
The man's breath caught in his throat. His ancestress - Hermione Weasley - was different. She was Double-D. 


	2. Chapter 1

Author Notes: Thank you to my beta reader Beth.  
  
Chapter 1: Peace is a Fragile Thing  
  
Of her entire seven years at Hogwarts, there was only one event that Hermione didn't remember with the dim cloak of nostalgia though which she viewed her youth and that was her first view of the castle, all the way back in her very first year. She remembered the thrill of seeing the majestic towers of Hogwarts rise out of the gloom of the lake, a sight that imprinted itself on her mind. She remembered with choking clarity the fear, anticipation and pride that had risen within her at the sight. Her determination to prove herself had amazed her.  
  
She remembered entering the Great Hall decked out in all its splendour. She remembered the surge of pride that filled her when she imparted with her knowledge about its special features.  
  
Looking back at those days with fondness, Hermione couldn't help but wonder why it was that the Sorting Hat had placed her in Gryffindor. Her determination, ambition and arrogance made her a perfect Slytherin candidate. A shudder rippled across her features. Hermione Granger, borne of Muggle parents, in Slytherin?  
  
An arm encircled her waist from behind and Hermione felt hot breath on her neck. "Why the frown?" Ron Weasley spun his wife around to face him. Without waiting for an answer, he dipped her over her desk and kissed her. The edge of Hermione's coat caught against a sheaf of papers and she watched helplessly as her notes flew up in the air and landed haphazardly on the ground.  
  
"Ron!" she scolded angrily as she extracted herself from his hold and began to pick up the parchments. "Those were my research papers!"  
  
"So now I'm not allowed to kiss my wife," Ron looked quizzically at Hermione as she stubbornly continued to pick up her papers.  
  
"Not when she's working, no!" the harsh words were out before Hermione could help it.  
  
Tiny lines of anger snaked their way across Ron's face, hardening the line of his mouth. The habitual frown that had been on his face for the past few months, reasserted itself. He opened his mouth to reply when Hermione held up her hand.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ron. I shouldn't have snapped."  
  
Ron's mouth shut fast. Pushing past her, Hermione heard him say curtly: "I'll be at the Ministry if you need me."  
  
Hermione fought to control the well of anger that threatened to bubble up inside her. "I'll see you tonight, then," she called after him in the normal jovial tone of a wife to husband. The words tasted dry and ashy in her mouth.  
  
The door of their home slammed shut, making her wince. Not Apparating within the house was a sure sign of anger. She knew that Ron only tolerated - barely - the fact that she had her own job, despite all his declarations that he loved her independence. His mother, Molly, had been the perfect wife and sometimes Hermione wondered whether her husband wished that she were more like his mother.  
  
Lately though, Ron seemed to be more on edge than usual about her work. It was almost as though. but no that was too ridiculous to contemplate. he expected that she would quit her job for him. Well not just for him, Hermione amended her thoughts, for him and their baby. An involuntary smile spread itself across her tired face. Their child. An baby girl. In seven months, she was going to be a mother.  
  
Hermione gave herself a shake. I need to get back to work, she thought as she bent over and gathered up the rest of her notes that had been swept off the table by Ron's careless spontaneity.  
  
Sitting herself down, she picked up her quill and dipped it in her little well of ink that was built into her desk. Her eyes scanned down the notes, and Hermione was surprised to realise that her paper was ready to be written. Her notes were complete, though in the wrong order - thanks to Ron - and she had spent so many hours on this that she already had an idea, in her mind, of what it would look like.  
  
Pausing only a second to think, Hermione dipped her quill again and began to write:  
  
Theory of Dual-Consciousness in Split-Brain Patients and its Application to Practical Magic  
  
By Doctor Hermione Weasley  
A brief smile crossed over her face as she regarded her title. One of the proudest moments in Hermione's life was receiving her Doctorate in Mage Mathematical Physics and now this paper would prove her worth as a Doctor of MMP. During the Dark War against Voldemort, one of the greatest limitations of the light side was their inability to block the three Unforgivables that Voldemort's supporters employed so often.  
  
Now though, Hermione thought she might have discovered - though Muggle physics - the way to render the three most deadly curses useless.  
  
It was simple as most truly genius ideas always are. The Unforgivables always struck the left side of the brain, which was a well-known fact. However, what wasn't so well known was that Muggle science had shown that both hemispheres of the brain were capable of working independently of each other if separated. The right side of the brain - commonly thought of as not being intelligent in the traditional sense - Muggles had found out, could be trained in split-brain patients to perform the duties of an entire brain. So, even though the left side of the brain would be under the influence of the Unforgivables, the right side could still function and overcome the left side and control the entire body. Simply by separating the brain hemispheres, you could resist the most potent curses of all time. It was brilliant in its simplicity.  
  
Of course, this wasn't the only use for what Hermione had grown used to calling dual-consciousness, but she was quite sure that it would be the one that created the most waves in the community. After all, resisting Crucio was impossible, right?  
  
Smile still on face, Hermione continued to write.  
  
~~~~  
  
Molly Weasley was fretting. She had been fretting ever since her son, Ronald Weasley, had married his high school sweetheart Hermione Granger. She fretted so much, in fact, that she hadn't attended their wedding, which placed a seemingly impenetrable rift between her and Ron.  
  
When she had heard of the wedding, Molly had wrung her hands with despair. She had done almost everything in her power as a mother to stop the wedding, but to no avail. The wedding went on as scheduled that lovely summery June morn, no more than two years ago.  
  
Molly had nothing against Hermione, personally. She was a lovely girl. Perhaps not conventionally pretty, a little too ambitious for her likings, but still Molly could see why her son loved her. But Molly had been determined to put a stop to the wedding, not to hurt Ron and Hermione, but rather to save them the pain that they were about to go through.  
  
Molly almost wished that her husband had never told her about the birth of Hermione. It had been top priority news at the Ministry, the birth of a wizarding child that possessed wizarding powers but with the DD wizarding gene instead of the normal dd gene. The book that recorded the births of all magical children at Hogwarts had immediately alerted the Ministry about the birth of Hermione Granger.  
  
Magical children with the DD magical gene were rare, about one each generation. They possessed superior intelligence, heightened magical powers and determination to succeed. Power was something they were born to achieve.  
  
There was a downside, though, to having what magical scientists nicknamed Double-D. There was precious little chance of them having magical children. If they married a witch or wizard, the combination of genes meant that only a squib could be conceived unless there was a genetic mutation in the child. If they married a muggle, there was a tiny possibility that their child could turn out to be Double-D, but in all other circumstances, the child would be squib.  
  
Molly Weasley liked to think of herself as a magnanimous woman. The Weasley family had been pureblood for as long as recorded history and to have a squib born in the family would be a disgrace. But Ron didn't listen, and now a child was on the way. A child, Molly thought, that was bound to be a squib and therefore an embarrassment to both the Weasley family and Hermione.  
  
~~~~  
  
"Another one?" the Minister of Magic eyed the seemingly innocent cream envelope with a mixture of horror and disgust. His fingers fiddled nervously with a small figurine of a lion on his desk. The figurine wobbled unsteadily.  
  
"I'm sorry, Minister. We are trying to do everything in our power to find out where they are from. We have fifty Aurors on the job," the Head of Security said.  
  
"Well that apparently isn't good enough," the Minister turned his darkened grey eyes towards the smaller man. "Take ten off the Malfoy case."  
  
"But Minister!"  
  
"No buts. Just do it. If information about these threats continuing leaks out this is going to be detrimental to the peace that Fudge the Great created. This administration is going to be blamed, Terry," the Minister said, looking serious. "The election is soon and we must have public support if we are to keep the peace together."  
  
"Yes Minister." The man nodded and left. There was no reason in pointing out the Minister's many achievements to him. If he chose to ignore them, well, it was his problem.  
  
Looking after the man's retreating figure through the door that was closing fast behind him, the Minister sighed and opened the latest envelope. It had, of course, been checked out by Aurors and contained nothing more than a note. There were no curses, no Muggle biological warfare. It was simply a note.  
  
The note was short, obviously written with an Untraceable Quill and unsigned as the others had been.  
  
Minister of Magic. Resign immediately or you will be eliminated. This is the last warning. Aurors can not watch your back all the time.  
  
Involuntarily, the Minister spun around and walking over to the open window, peered out cautiously though the drapes. There was nothing. Besides, he reassured himself, the magical attack disruptors are in place. There's no need to worry. Just nerves.  
  
Nerves, he told himself as he sat back down at his desk. Nerves, he told himself as he heard a rustling of the drapes behind him. Nerves, he told himself as he heard a breathing sound behind him. Nerves, he was telling himself even as the bullet entered and exited his body, making a messy splatter on the wall.  
  
A drop of blood hit the lion figurine and with a small wobble, it hit the ground and broke, shards embedding themselves in the Persian rug.  
  
~~~~  
  
As soon as Ron walked into the Ministry, he knew that something was horribly wrong. Nervous faces peered out from behind every corner and upon seeing his familiar face, only managed a small smile before reverting back to their terrified expressions.  
  
"Hey," Ron waved cheerfully at his colleague as he passed but only received a blank look and then a look of disgust as if Ron was laughing at a funeral.  
  
He was walking down the corridor towards his office when he bumped into his secretary. She had a frightened expression on her face. When Ron peered more closely at it, he could see that it was devoid of makeup, and her eyes were slightly swollen. "Bernice, what's the matter? You look like someone's died!"  
  
Burying her face into her hands, Bernice managed to gasp out, "The Minister. assassinated," before running off down the corridor, weeping uncontrollably.  
  
Bump. Ron sat down abruptly in the middle of the corridor. The minister was assassinated. Why, that was impossible! He had only seen him yesterday. It was ridiculous, really. Surely in a minute, Bernice would come back with a laugh in her dark brown eyes, telling him that it was simply an elaborate hoax.  
  
After all, no Minister had ever been assassinated before whilst in office. Even during the Dark War, no such horror had ever happened.  
  
Ron suddenly shuddered. The wizarding community was just beginning to heal itself after the Dark War. Such a thing would create chaos in England. It might even destroy the delicately balanced peace.  
  
The Minister had been a popular man. Had been. He was dead. This was bound to have repercussions, big repercussions. The Minister had been an integral part in the creation of the current peace. He had supervised the signing of the treaties with the werewolves, giants, vampires and other Dark Creatures. His charismatic personality had won over back to the light many who had gone over to the Dark Side during the Dark War. He was seen to be highly intelligent, yet in touch with the common witch and wizard. He had respected privacy, which had led to many people seeking out his ear, knowing that they could trust him to keep their secrets as closely as he guarded his own. He was seen to be fair, honest and reliable. Oh boy, was this going to have huge repercussions.  
  
"All Ministry employees!" the small pin on his robes blared. "Apparate to the conference room within the Department of Security immediately. Urgent meeting!"  
  
Laying a hand on his wand, Ron muttered the Apparation words and instantly appeared in the conference room. Witches and Wizards from all different departments were milling around him, talking in hushed voices. In the centre of the room, there was a raised platform. He had just seen Bernice in the corner and was about to walk over to comfort her, when the Head of Security suddenly appeared on the raised platform.  
  
He held up his hand and waited until the noise had died down to barely a whisper when he began to speak. "Witches and Wizards. I am sure all of you have today heard the tragic news that our finest wizard, in fact, our very Minister of Magic has been assassinated. I was with our esteemed Minister two hours ago, moments before his death and let me be the first express my deepest sympathies towards his family and friends." There was sombre applause.  
  
Ron couldn't help noticing, as always, the power in the voice of the Head of Security. He only had to whisper and the entire room snapped to full attention. There was a certain convincing nature about him, his voice and demeanour.  
  
"But we cannot let this act of terrorism deter us from our jobs and our everyday lives. If we live our lives in fear, then the assassin of the Minister will have won. If, however, we employ full forces to search for the assassin while still going about our everyday tasks, then he will not have won. We must present a brave face for the public. We must reassure them that all is right, and the assassin will soon be caught and in Azkaban. We must remain alert but not alarmed. We cannot let our lives fall into disarray because of this one tragic act. We must show the public that the Ministry is strong and will not be defeated."  
  
As Ron looked around, everyone he could see was nodding. Indeed, Ron himself was also nodding. It made sense; perfect sense.  
  
"Counselling will be provided free of charge for anyone who wants it. The counsellors will be the most esteemed of their kind in England. I advise that everyone go at least once. Events like this often have unforeseen effects on the mind.  
  
"Discussion of this with family members is not strictly forbidden but simply advised against. There is no need for undue panic in the community.  
  
"Work shall not stop because of this. Grieving is important, but in such delicate times, presenting a brave face is more so. You are all due back in your own offices for work in an hour. That should give you enough time to discuss this amongst yourselves. That is, all except the Department of Security personnel. Security will be upgraded in every Ministry department because of this and it is imperative that it begin immediately.  
  
"You are dismissed."  
  
Slowly a babble of voices was heard in the room once more. Ron watched as small groups of people broke away and left, walking slowly back to their own departments.  
  
He began walking slowly towards the Head of Security who was still standing on the raised platform.  
  
"Ronald Weasley," he acknowledged Ron with a curt nod of the head. His eyes swept over the other dozen or so people clustered around the platform. "It seems we are all here." He stepped off the platform, his seeming height immediately diminishing, as he was actually a rather diminutive man. "Follow me," he ordered the security personnel as he walked off, drawing his cloak around his body.  
  
They entered a small room off the main corridor of the Security Department. The room was sparsely furnished with one table and fifteen chairs, just enough for all of them. "Be seated."  
  
Ron seated himself.  
  
"Before we begin with the new security plans for the Ministry, let me just express my disappointment in all of you." His piercing eyes travelled over all of them, making them all lower their heads. "The Minister began to receive death threats over a month ago and none of you have managed to turn up with a single suspect? And now he's dead."  
  
"But the Aurors." a dark haired woman began when he cut her off.  
  
"But the Aurors!" he said mockingly. "We are the Department of Security. The Aurors are simply an extension of us to fight the Dark Arts and threats on the Ministry. This isn't their fault. It's ours. It's our fault for not securing the Minister's office against non-magical attacks. It's our fault for not catching the assassin as he crept up thirty floors on the outside of the building to shoot the Minister in the back. It's our fault that we don't know a single thing about the person or persons who have committed this atrocious act."  
  
Nobody felt brave enough to say anything after that tirade so after a minute or two of silence, he began again, this time speaking in a calmer voice. "I have cast a Silencing Spell on this room, so that nobody can eavesdrop. Anything discussed in this room is top secret. It will not be discussed with wives, husbands, lovers, friends or children. Understood?"  
  
Everybody nodded.  
  
"We are going to upgrade the entire security system at the Ministry with a melding of Muggle and magic security. Every future Minister is going to have two personal bodyguards. The election in a few months will still go ahead and Aurors have told me that they anticipate riots that Muggles are sure to notice. We will make sure that does not happen. We will make sure we catch this assassin and stick him in Azkaban where he belongs. We will find out what group he works for and take steps to eliminate that group. And we will do all this without public scrutiny from The Daily Prophet. There will be no leaking of plans from this room. If I find any of you talking, you will find your magical licence immediately revoked."  
  
When Ron exited the room five hours later, dark rings could be seen beneath his eyes. His argument with Hermione had been forgotten so when he Apparated home, he was quite surprised to have Hermione burst into the Apparation Room and envelop him in a hug.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Ron!" she sobbed into his shoulder. "I was so afraid that something had happened to you. I heard what happened to Jack. Oh I'm so sorry." She buried her face into Ron's robes as he patted her on the back.  
  
"Don't worry, Hermione-love, everything will be all right." Ron heard his own confident tone, and wished that he was really that convinced. 


	3. Chapter 2

Author Notes: Thank you to my beta reader Mika.  
  
Chapter 2: The London Plague  
  
Draco Malfoy never thought he would be in hiding. His father, Lucius Malfoy had brought up the rich boy as the son of a king. In childhood, all Draco had to do was wave his hand and every whim of his was answered. Draco had never experienced a moment of fear in his life, not a moment of terror, not a moment of desperation, that is until he entered Hogwarts. Even then, the most Draco experienced was mild anxiety.  
  
Lucius saw to that Draco had full control of Slytherin House. Having control of the house of the ambitious was not easy but somehow Lucius managed it, though bribes, though threats but most of all through his association with the Dark Lord. The house of the ambitious, the cunning, was easily twisted and warped to Lucius' desires. But loyalty so easily won, is just as easily lost, for the Slytherins of Hogwarts had no sense of duty, even to their own.  
  
The Malfoys were excised from Slytherin House during the Dark War. The family that had been an integral part of Hogwarts, even from the Founding, were ousted in a mere week. Every memento of the Malfoy family in Slytherin House was destroyed, every person who had associated with the Malfoys investigated.  
  
Draco Malfoy had been complacent then. The Malfoy determination had been long worn down by centuries of power and all that was left of it was mere arrogance. But years of running, years of fleeing captors and years of hiding had taken its toll on his pride. Draco Malfoy was complacent no longer.  
  
His grey eyes haunted the streets of London. Dressed in Muggle clothing with a telltale bulge in the hip holster area, none of his old classmates would have spared him a second glance. The trash of London: that was what Draco Malfoy had become.  
  
But after five years of abandoning the wizarding world, something drew Draco back.  
  
To anyone else, the assassination of the Minister was simply an isolated event. Regrettable, yes, but the world needed to move on. Security had been upgraded at the ministry. A few small riots that had begun were quickly quashed. The Department of Security had a good lead. The assassin would soon be found.  
  
Draco, however, saw something different. He could see, in this assassination, the work of the Certese Circle, the London plague. His father had done some wet work for some of the top Certese Circle members before - simple killings, done always with a muggle murder weapon.  
  
The Certese Circle was a clandestine organisation of the London underground, known to few wizards and even fewer Muggles. Draco had never found out what exactly the Certese stood for, but his father had always stressed to him the power and danger of the organisation. Its symbol, a silver circle enclosed by a jagged green line, was always found at the murder scene, though usually placed at an innocuous place. There was one other thing that cinched it for Draco and that was the fact the Certese always killed with one bullet, always right through the heart.  
  
His contacts within the Ministry had told Draco exactly what he dreaded to hear. "The Minister didn't suffer, just one bullet through the heart." "There was a curious object found at the scene, one of the Minister's buttons was ripped off and another button put in its place. The new button was strange, just a silver circle with a green jagged line around it, painted on plain enamel."  
  
The wizarding world had abandoned him; the Ministry was trying to capture him, yet Draco Malfoy still couldn't let the Certese take over. He couldn't allow this to happen whilst he still had a breath in his body, for it was the Certese who killed Lucius, his father. They had killed one of their own.  
  
But avengement of his father's death was difficult whilst Draco was still ostracised from the wizarding world. His contacts within the Ministry weren't enough. They were simple cleaners, secretaries. no, Draco needed someone in there who knew him, someone with real power. Someone like. Draco's eyes alighted on a picture in the papers, a picture of a very familiar red-haired man: the sidekick of the famous Harry Potter.  
  
Draco almost smiled, feeling his face crack under the effort. So be it, he would contact Ronald Weasley with his information and bring about the downfall of the Certese. But meanwhile - his stomach grumbled loudly - he was in need of food.  
  
~~~~  
  
Hermione Weasley was terrified when she felt the strong hand of a man grab her from behind. The dirty hand clamped itself on her mouth so that only a tiny frightened squeak could emerge, whilst the other hand was holding something, something cold and hard that pressed into her back.  
  
The wand dug into her spine as a harsh voice whispered in her ear, "Well don't we have a prize here? The wife of a Ministry official. You'll fetch a pretty penny. when we're finished with you." Cold laughter shook through his body as Hermione struggled futilely.  
  
I should have never ended up here; Hermione thought miserably, I truly am a witch. I can't even find my way around Muggle London without accidentally ending up in the slums. She shivered involuntarily as she remembered the mutilated body of the last witch who ended up in her situation.  
  
"Walk!" he ordered as he prodded her with his wand.  
  
Hermione complied meekly. She had only taken a few steps when suddenly she heard the voice of another man.  
  
"Stop!" the strangely familiar voice said again. "Let her go."  
  
"Well, well," the man holding Hermione sneered, "what do we have here? The knight in shining." he never got to finish his sentence.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!" the two words were hissed as a shot of green light hit the man holding Hermione. She immediately felt his grip slacken as she wrenched herself away to only be caught by the wrist by her unknown rescuer. Hermione lifted her eyes and stared into a pair of emotionless grey eyes.  
  
"Not even a thank you for your rescuer?" his grip on her wrist tightened.  
  
Hermione frowned, and tried to place the voice. She was positive that he was definitely not one of Ron's colleagues. That was certain. Perhaps she had bumped into him briefly somewhere.  
  
"Don't you even remember me?" the man cocked his head to one side, looking quizzically at her when there was no answer.  
  
"Why should I remember you?" a frown creased her brow. There was something about that thin face, the dirty blond hair, and those detached eyes. Hermione felt as though her acquaintance with this man wasn't simply a brief one. They had known each other for a long time. But why couldn't she place his face?  
  
"We went to Hogwarts together. We were in the same year."  
  
That explained it. Hermione wouldn't have seen the man for over five years. He couldn't have been in Gryffindor, she had seen all her Gryffindor classmates only recently in their five year reunion. Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff maybe, but Hermione doubted it. That only left one choice: Slytherin. Suddenly, recognition dawned on her face. "Malfoy? Draco Malfoy, is that you?"  
  
"The one and only."  
  
"But why?"  
  
Draco considered his words carefully. "Lets just say that I need something from you in return for this favour." A brief smile crossed his lips at these words. Let her wonder at their meaning. He offered his arm out to her. "Let me escort you back to your home."  
  
Hermione didn't take the arm. "But why did you help me? I'm just the Mudblood Gryffindor, not even worth a second glance." Even after all these years, a wince escaped her at these words.  
  
"I need your help," the words were out before Draco could think properly.  
  
"My help?" If that was at all possible, Hermione looked even more suspicious.  
  
"Your husband's help. If you'll allow me, I'll explain while I escort you home," Draco indicated pointedly at his arm, which was still being offered. His other hand was still gripped tightly on the wand, which a few moments ago, had erupted with the killing curse. With her eye firmly on his wand, Hermione slid her arm through Draco's proffered one. Polite bastard, she thought as they walked off together.  
  
"What happened to you?" Hermione's inquisitiveness got the better of her after they walked for about five minutes in silence. They were now in a more well to do area of London, and she couldn't help seeing the passer-bys give her and Draco curious looks. No wonder, she thought to herself grimly as she surveyed him through the corner of her eyes, taking in his dirty and ripped Muggle clothes. Of course, Hermione reasoned, they could also be looking at the fact he's carrying a wand. but they don't know about wands do they? So they'd think that he's carrying a stick. Oh gods, they probably think he's my husband or something and is going to beat me.  
  
"I presume you've heard of the assassination," Draco began ignoring what she had just said. He didn't wait for a reply, but just ploughed on, "What if I were to say that I knew exactly who killed the Minister." He had spoken in a soft voice, so soft in fact that Hermione had to lean in to hear him. Her brown eyes widened.  
  
"You know who killed the Minister?" gasped Hermione.  
  
"Gryffindors," Draco muttered, and rolled his eyes. "Yes, that is what I just said."  
  
"How? No. who? Why don't you go to the Ministry with this?"  
  
Draco snorted, "How can I go to the Ministry when they still have a price for my head? Undeniably, it's a remarkably pretty head, but still." Hermione stared at him strangely as he continued, "No, I can't go to the Ministry because they have people planted there. Anyone I approach there could be Certese and they'd kill me on the spot."  
  
"How do you know that I'm not a . Certese?" Hermione asked the obvious question immediately.  
  
"No Certese is muggle-born, and no Certese would marry a muggle-born. It is impossible that either you or Weasley are Certese."  
  
"But what are these Certese?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Draco admitted. "I just know they killed the Minister. It's their pattern, they always kill the victim in a Muggle way and always through the heart. Then they leave their symbol at the scene. They're very powerful and far-reaching. The Circle consists of mostly wizards but there are a few Muggles."  
  
"They have Muggles?" Hermione was amazed, "But you just said that they hate muggle-borns."  
  
"I said no such thing. I said that no Certese would be a muggle-born or marry a muggle-born. They fear muggle-borns." Draco paused for a second. "I'm not sure why," he finished, but his voice didn't sound convincing.  
  
They had stopped in front of a two-storey house, hemmed in close by the adjoining houses. Hermione strode to the porch, and to Draco's amusement, took out a Muggle key and opened the front door. As they entered, Hermione asked, "But why do you want to help us catch the Certese? As you said, the Ministry is still trying to catch you, and put you in Azkaban." she trailed off and gestured silently towards the kitchen table for Draco to sit down.  
  
He gratefully sat. Somehow, Draco knew it would quickly come to this. he would have to tell her. "The Certese killed my father." He said quietly. There was no need to tell her the extra little detail that his father was Certese.  
  
Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Oh, Malfoy. Draco, I'm so sorry." She felt a twinge of discomfort at saying his name, but brushed it away. It was obvious that Mal. Draco had changed for the better. He was no longer that arrogant brat she knew at Hogwarts, but rather, he was now brimming with a quiet determination.  
  
There was a sudden sound in the adjoining room, which made Hermione jump. Her husband's voice floated into the kitchen.  
  
"Hermione-love, I'm home."  
  
Draco watched, rather perplexed as a small twinge of annoyance crossed Hermione's face before being replaced with worry. "Ron, darling, we have a visitor."  
  
The red-haired man walked into the kitchen, busy looking at papers and didn't see Draco sitting there. "Who is she? Is it Ginny?"  
  
"He," a masculine voice corrected him. "And I doubt very much that I look like your sister Virginia Weasley." Ron gave a start and glanced up from his papers to see his wife and this strange man sitting at their kitchen table.  
  
"Who are you?" Ron demanded angrily, shooting a suspicious glance at Hermione.  
  
"Ron!" Hermione chastened, "Don't be rude to our guest. Anyway, you should remember each other from school." Like when Ron belched slugs? Her mind taunted. "This is Draco Malfoy. We all haven't seen each other for a long time. Why don't we all sit down and have a proper, civilised, grown-up conversation." Hermione hinted, non-too subtly. "Draco has something he would like to speak to you about."  
  
"Oh! So you're on a first name relationship, are you?" Ron looked darkly at his wife before turning towards the blond haired man. "You do realise that as a member of the Department of Security, I have the full power of any Auror, and that includes arresting you." It was not a question.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Weasley, I do realise that. However, I must speak to you urgently," Draco's voice was polite but cold.  
  
"I see you've learnt some manners over the years. I congratulate you," Ron matched his coldness and added sarcasm.  
  
"Oh stop it!" Hermione burst out exasperated. "Ron, Draco, you should be more mature than that. Honestly Ron, don't you ever listen. He has something important to tell you!"  
  
Ron fixed Hermione with a glare. "Fine," he snapped at Draco. "You have a minute, and after that, if I don't think that you have anything important to say, I will be escorting you to Azkaban personally."  
  
Draco briefly considered demanding for an apology for the treatment he had received, but decided against it. There were more important matters to be dealt with. "Have you ever heard of the Certese Circle, otherwise called the London plague?"  
  
To Hermione's surprise, Ron nodded curtly. "A ridiculous fairy tale told to every new Security Department employee. Don't tell me you believe it? Oh you poor sod."  
  
Draco bristled at the sarcasm. "The Certese Circle exist. They killed the Minister of Magic. The entire Ministry is riddled with moles who will report every single activity in the ministry, from important treaties signed to how much toilet paper each employee uses. They couldn't control the Minister, too strong I suppose, so they killed him. Tell me, you found a button ripped off the Minister's shirt and a replacement button in its place. Was the replacement button plain enamel with a silver circle surrounded by a jagged green line painted on it?"  
  
"This proves nothing," Ron blustered.  
  
"On the contrary, Mr. Weasley. It proves a great deal. It proves the existence of your so-called fairy tale. It proves that the Certese killed the Minister. And it suggests that the Certese already has control of the Ministry."  
  
"What?" Ron exclaimed.  
  
"How was a Certese assassin able to get in then, if not with inside help?"  
  
"But. but. he would need." Ron stammered.  
  
"Help from the highest ranks. This doesn't just scare you, Mr. Weasley. It also scares me. I know what the Certese can do." Draco briefly closed his eyes. "They killed my father. They killed my father while he was next to Lord Voldemort."  
  
"Are you trying to tell me that this. this. Certese is stronger than You- Know-Who?"  
  
Draco nodded quietly, not saying a word, just watching as what he said sunk in. Ron's face had gone white, his hands were shaking. there was suddenly a tiny flicker of his eyes. Draco paled and lunged to one side, almost knocking Hermione over.  
  
Ron had grabbed his wand, a wild look in his eyes and was attempting to attack Draco. Hermione ran over and slapped him on the face. "Ron! What's gotten into you? Draco's trying to help us?"  
  
"How do I know that he's not lying? How do I know that he's not Certese himself?" Ron was breathing heavily.  
  
"Well, you have just proved it yourself. I cannot be both at the same time. I know you believe me, Mr. Weasley." The air of calm that Draco was exuding took almost all of his energy.  
  
Hermione looked curiously at him. "How did you know that Ron was going to strike?"  
  
"It was in his eyes," Draco smiled wearily. "Living on the streets fine- tunes ones instincts. It almost makes us as good as the government's field agents. funny, huh?" But he did not laugh.  
  
Ron finally looked up at him, into the grey eyes. "I'm not saying I believe you. But if I do, what can anyone do against these Certese? If they're so all-powerful."  
  
"I don't know," Draco admitted. "I honestly don't know."  
  
"Then why come to me. us with the news if you are just going to tell us that it's hopeless?" there was no anger in Ron's voice, just resignation.  
  
"Oh Ron, I'm sure there is hope," Hermione smiled bravely, "There is always hope. I'd never allow my children to grow up in a world controlled by the Certese." She fingered the pregnancy charm on her neck that glowed steadily pink. "Not my baby girl."  
  
Ron gave his wife a fond smile, reaching out a hand to pat her on her stomach. "Don't you worry, Hermione-love, I would never allow anything to happen to you."  
  
Draco watched as a flicker, this time more noticeable, of annoyance lingered on Hermione's face as her husband turned away from her.  
  
"So Malfoy, do you expect us to believe you, without proof?"  
  
"Proof?" there was an amused tone in Draco's voice. "Would you like the definitive proof when the Certese have full control of the Ministry? Would you like the definitive proof when all the muggle-born witches and wizards are taken away and locked up? Would you like the definitive proof of more assassinations with the same evidence? Tell me, Mr. Weasley, which would you prefer?"  
  
"They would lock up muggle-borns?"  
  
Hermione let out a small sigh as her husband missed the main point all together. She supposed that it was sweet of him to care about her. but not when the whole wizarding world was at stake. Hermione honestly didn't know why she believed Draco's words, there was no real proof in any of them. she just felt they were true, that's all.  
  
"They fear muggle-borns." Draco paused before adding. "If you really want proof."  
  
"What?" Ron demanded.  
  
"If you really want proof, then you should go to Malfoy Manor. I'll take you, but we need to get past the cordons and the security. The Ministry suspects that I may visit it again someday and has taken precautions."  
  
"But I thought your father was killed by the Certese, how would he know anything about them? Wait. how did you know he was killed by the Certese? How do you know so much about the Certese?" Ron's words were drenched in suspicion.  
  
Draco stared into Hermione's eyes then into Ron's. "I suppose I haven't been entirely honest with you two. My father was not only killed by the Certese. before he was killed by them, he worked for them. My father was Certese."  
  
"What?" Ron exploded. "Your father worked for these Certese? How do I know you don't work for them?"  
  
"Yes," Draco looked defiantly at him, "So? I have nothing to hide. So what if my father worked there. They killed him. They killed one of their own. They killed my goddamn father!" he slapped his palm on the table making Hermione jump. "Why the fuck would I work for them?"  
  
"I believe you," Hermione said softly, but both men ignored her.  
  
"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," Ron said, "Anyway, we don't need to go past the Ministry cordons, I can just ask at work to have them removed while."  
  
"No!" Draco snapped loudly.  
  
Ron was shocked. "Why?"  
  
"How many times do I have to stress this to you. Anyone at the Ministry could be Certese. Anyone. Absolutely anyone. You cannot tell this to anyone."  
  
"Not even Ginny?" Hermione's voice quivered slightly. "She's my best friend, she'd never."  
  
"No!" Draco roared. It was the first time Hermione had heard someone roar so quietly. His voice hadn't gone any louder than a normal speaking tone, yet he had definitely roared.  
  
"How about Harry?"  
  
"What part of 'You cannot tell this to anyone' do you not understand?" Exasperation filled Draco's voice as he responded.  
  
"The part when I said that I didn't quite believe what you said," Ron retorted, "Besides, if you're so paranoid, anybody could have a listening spell."  
  
He stopped as Draco reached into his shirt and pulled out a charm on a silver chain. The charm was in the shape of a human hand in the classic: "Be Quiet!" gesture. "A silencing charm. It blocks out all listening charms as well as Muggle listening devices within a fifty metre radius and replaces it with small talk about the weather. Ingenious British design, isn't it?"  
  
"You've never heard of being too paranoid, have you?" Ron asked, his voice civil for once.  
  
"One can never be too paranoid where the Certese Circle are concerned."  
  
~~~~  
  
Molly Weasley was like every other person in the wizarding world. She too was surprised when The Daily Prophet announced the assassination of the Minister. In fact, she was so surprised that she almost forgot about the pain of Ron marrying Hermione. Almost.  
  
Thoughts of her son and his wife crowded in her head each and every day. She thought about it every single morning as she woke up, and every single night as she went to sleep. Molly supposed that she was getting a little obsessive about the possibility. certainty of a squib child, but she couldn't help her thoughts.  
  
A year ago, Molly had checked into St. Mungo's for a week but they had found nothing wrong with her. They simply told her that her worries that her grandchild would be a squib were unfounded. Of course, Molly hadn't told them about Hermione being Double-D.  
  
Molly remembered when Arthur had first mentioned the words Double-D. She had actually laughed. It was a sadistic person who named the condition - for Molly persisted in thinking of it as one - that Hermione now suffered from.  
  
"Now Arthur," Molly had said laughingly, "That sounds like a enormously big bra size." But Arthur had not shared her humour. He had told her exactly what Double-D meant in terms of the baby Hermione Emily Granger. And Molly Weasley had laughed no longer.  
  
~~~~  
  
"Hermione-love," Ron murmured in his wife's ear as they lay in bed that night, "Are you sure we can trust him?"  
  
"I suppose we'll know when we see his proof," Hermione said.  
  
"We?" he was quizzical.  
  
Hermione rolled over and sat up to face her husband. Even though she couldn't see him in the dark, Hermione knew that he was frowning. "I will be going too."  
  
"No, Hermione. It's too dangerous," Ron sat up and tried to pull Hermione back under the sheets. "Come back to bed, love, it's cold."  
  
"Too dangerous?"  
  
"I mean with the baby coming and everything, we can't risk anything happening to you."  
  
Hermione let out a slow breath of air, "And you think I will just sit back and watch you take all the risks?"  
  
"Lumos!" The end of Ron's wand lit up and he looked at Hermione earnestly. "You can't go, the baby."  
  
Hermione fought to control the bubble of anger that threatened to burst within her. "I will not have a fight with you now, Ron. We'll talk in the morning."  
  
"We're not fighting," Ron looked perplexed.  
  
"Oh? Then why do you persist in being so recidivist?"  
  
"So what?"  
  
Hermione shook her head and crawled back under the sheets. "Goodnight Ron." She felt a hand on her shoulder as Ron turned her around to face him. The room was dark again as he whispered Nox at his wand.  
  
"Night, Hermione-love."  
  
~~~~  
  
The man walked with a pronounced limp. He was carrying a tattered old briefcase in his left hand, and in his right hand, he held an umbrella, shelter against the cold rainy London nights. To any casual observer, the man would have been innocuous against the background of workaholics making their way back home in the dark, just another product of a society grasping for economical growth.  
  
To the trained eye though, the man was not what he seemed. His briefcase was swinging too fast from his fingers, there couldn't have been anything in it. His stride was too quick for a man worn out from a hard day work. There was a bulge in his right coat pocket, possibly a mobile, or Game Boy, but also possibly a gun, positioned where it could be grasped easily. And his eyes were the wary eyes of a hunter, waiting for his prey.  
  
He was walking by a building with a sign proclaiming it to be the: "Housing board of England" when he suddenly disappeared.  
  
In reality, of course, the man had simply slid into a small recessed doorway, but to anybody else, he would have vanished into thin air. But nobody was watching.  
  
Footsteps sounded inside the building as the man made his way up several flights of stairs. He stopped in front of a door on the fourth level and knocked three times. It swung open.  
  
"You're late." The man sitting on a massive executive chair - the kind you see in huge office buildings - slowly spun around.  
  
The mild rebuke was ignored. "I have some new information. The Malfoy son has contacted a Ministry family," a slight pause, "some friends of mine."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"He has told them about the Certese."  
  
The man on the chair shook his head slowly and muttered, "This is not good."  
  
"No shit," the standing man snapped, "they could now be in danger because of the stupidity of that Malfoy. Shall we place them under protection?"  
  
The other man considered the words. "My friend," he said, "I think you speak too hastily, out of love for the ones concerned rather than out of necessity. There is no need to place them under protection yet. There is no sign the Certese even know of their existence."  
  
"They will," his voice was a grim portent.  
  
"And why?"  
  
"Mr. Weasley one of the ones tipped to become the next Minister. He doesn't know it yet, but he has some powerful friends. That alone will place them in the Certese radar."  
  
"So young," the other man murmured.  
  
"But with more experience than that fool Fudge ever had!" the voice was sneering.  
  
"I trust you have more experience not to repeat that name out of this building without the strictest respect. Now about our friends the Weasleys, I suggest you watch them carefully. If there are any signs the Certese suspect they know, come to me immediately, otherwise don't do anything stupid."  
  
"Ron won't just sit still with that information. He knew Jack personally. He'll try to avenge his death. Hell, he may even try to take down the Certese single-handedly. Without the information we have. even with the information, it is a foolhardy mission at best."  
  
"Mr. Potter!" the rebuke was sharp. "Your personal feelings will have no part to play in this game. If you tell Mr. Weasley anything, you will be retired."  
  
"I understand," Harry's mouth thinned in an unconscious imitation of his old Potions teacher, but he lowered his head submissively.  
  
"Good. I don't want to retire you Harry. God knows you're the best field agent we've ever had, but your personal feelings are beginning to get in the way. Especially in this case. We can't risk exposure to the wizarding world. You know as well as I do, the Ministry is over-ridden with moles, the Aurors even the Unspeakables. The only reason why we are left alone is because we don't exist to the general wizarding population. And it will stay that way."  
  
Harry nodded, then abruptly spun on his heel and left.  
  
The man sitting in the chair sighed as he watched the famous Harry Potter leave. Having such a well-known face working for him was a bonus, nobody ever suspected Harry of doing anything else other than working for one of the most boring sections of the Ministry. He supposed it was because people thought that Harry was tired of action after the War. Little did they know that not only was Harry not tired of action, he thirsted for it. It had become a necessity to him, so when he was approached, Harry Potter had jumped at the chance to work for the second most clandestine group in the wizarding world. But now he was becoming a liability.  
  
Reaching for the phone next to him, the man picked it up and dialled a London number. "The Gryffindors are losing," he said abruptly and hung up.  
  
~~~~  
  
"You bastard," Harry growled, as he twisted the collar of Draco's shirt so that his knuckles rammed into the other man's throat. "You absolute bastard."  
  
Draco's eyes slowly bugged out of his head as he struggled to breathe in the other man's iron grip, "Why? What did I do?" he attempted at joking, the words wheezing out of his constricted airway.  
  
Apparently, it was the wrong move. Harry's knuckles turned whiter as he twisted his grip a little more. "You-Told-Ron-And-Hermione-About-The- Certese."  
  
"Let me go," Draco's voice came out as a mere croak, barely understandable.  
  
Harry released his grip and watched as the other man crumpled to the ground against the wall.  
  
Nursing his throat, Draco stumbled to his feet. "What were you trying to do? Kill me?" he exclaimed angrily. He had been waylaid in the streets of London as he attempted to find a night-time snack. At first, Draco had thought that it was simply a Muggle criminal but when his attacker had immediately removed his wand and thrown it aside, he knew that he was dealing with a professional wizard. Rule number one when dealing with an enemy wizard was always: Remove his wand.  
  
Darkened green eyes narrowed at him. Draco noticed that Potter had taken up the offensive position, half-crouching with one hand hovering near a pocket. It was the attack position of Hit Wizards. He gulped. "Potter, I was just trying to warn them. It wasn't safe for Weasley to be in the Ministry with the Certese trying to control it."  
  
A grim laugh escaped Harry's lips. "And you expect me to believe that Malfoy? I didn't think you thought so little of me."  
  
"It's the truth!" Draco insisted.  
  
"Fuck you, Malfoy," Harry said calmly, "I'll tell you the truth. The truth is that you want to avenge the death of your father and you won't do the dirty work yourself."  
  
Draco let out a forced laugh, "Don't be ridiculous, Potter."  
  
"It's true. You know as well as I do. After all, if it wasn't, why would you have flinched?"  
  
Spreading out his hands, Draco leaned against the wall and assumed a nonchalant position, "What then? Do you want to kill me?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Harry did an imitation of Draco's voice a minute earlier.  
  
"What then?" the other man demanded, "What the fuck do you want with me?"  
  
Harry ignored the question. "What did you tell Ron and Hermione about the Certese?"  
  
"I." Draco trailed off. "Wait a minute," he asked suspiciously, "how do you know about the Certese?"  
  
"If I tell you then I'll have to kill you." The oft-used phrase from Muggle spy films took on a new chilling tone as they came out of Potter's lips.  
  
Draco simply couldn't reconcile his image of the awkward teenager he remembered from his Hogwarts years and the man who now stood over him. It just didn't make sense. The last he had heard, the famous Harry Potter had been working for some kind of agricultural branch of the Ministry. Draco could tell when someone had training, and Potter had training. He held his weapons with the ease of a professional killer; a fact that was now frightening Draco though he would not show it.  
  
"You are threatening to kill me?"  
  
"Correct and you seem appropriately frightened. That bead of sweat slowly making its way down your cheek is a dead giveaway." Harry's voice was cold, "You won't be missed. The Ministry will be happy to receive an anonymous tip-off that the Malfoy heir is now dead. Nobody will care if you die."  
  
It was funny how much the truth hurt. Potter was right, nobody would care if Draco Malfoy died. "You wouldn't kill me, Potter."  
  
"Try me."  
  
Draco gulped silently and began to slowly walk forwards. Click. Harry cocked the gun and pointed it right at Draco's head.  
  
"Don't doubt my aim, Malfoy."  
  
Pausing, Draco's voice had a slightly tremor as he spoke, "You won't shoot."  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed as he pulled the trigger. 


	4. Chapter 3

The Ministry of Magic was the only magical organisation that worked on two entirely different levels. The first was the open level, the one with the administration staff, Aurors, and other normal people. The second was the covert level. That level, known by few, was the true controller of the wizarding world.  
  
The second level of the Ministry consisted of clandestine group after clandestine group. They were so cloaked in secrecy that individuals in any group had little or no knowledge of anyone outside of their immediate circle. Harry Potter, after ten years working with one of the more secret organisations, still had no idea of the power structures that held the wizarding world together at the seams.  
  
And he preferred to keep it that way.  
  
~~~~  
  
Draco's first thought as he hit the ground was that Muggle movies had gotten it all wrong. Guns did not make cute popping noises when they went off; the sound they made was absolutely deafening. The ringing in his ears distracted Draco for about five seconds before he realised that he wasn't really hurt and that the bullet had actually burrowed its way into the brick wall beside his left ear.  
  
"Consider that a warning," the snub-nosed muzzle of a gun known affectionately as Lupo, the wolf, pressed against Draco's temple tightly, "come with me."  
  
Orders, Draco reasoned, should be followed especially when one's life was on the line. He stood up shakily and brushed himself off. In a quick movement, the Lupo shifted to his back.  
  
"Don't think of running. Paralysis is no pleasant experience. I trust you don't want to experience it," Harry said bluntly. A small jerk of his hand and the gun dug into Draco's back painfully. "Move," Harry ordered.  
  
Draco slowly began to walk towards the small group of Muggles he could see ahead. Briefly, he considered screaming for help but dismissed the thought almost immediately. Though the Lupo was an old-style gun, chosen by American killers during the Cold War, it was still a quick and painful weapon. His mind then searched for another plan, perhaps stalling Potter. "What do you plan to do with me?" he paused in mid-step and turned slightly so that he could see the other man's outline in his peripheral vision.  
  
Harry merely dug the gun further into Draco's back. "Don't even think about it, Malfoy."  
  
They had moved into a section of the small alleyway that was more shadowy than the rest. A dim lamp, which was supposed to be overhead, had blown, leaving objects below privy to the darkness of the cold London night.  
  
In one swift motion, Harry suddenly clamped a hand over Draco's mouth and dragged the other man into the shadows. Harry lifted his leg and kicked silently at a section of the wall, which melted away, leaving a sparsely lit alcove and a narrow staircase. He dragged Draco, still holding the gun to his back, into the alcove. Once they entered, the wall of the alleyway rematerialised behind them.  
  
Harry let go of Draco's mouth and prodded him with the Lupo. "Walk."  
  
Draco eyed the staircase doubtfully and began to climb.  
  
Dark, damp and smelly, the staircase was a tightly wound up spiral that ended at a heavy steel door. Harry reached around Draco and pressed his thumb against the door handle. The door slid open with a loud clang, to reveal a small room. It was devoid of all objects except for a sole chair in the centre. A dim bulb swung from the ceiling.  
  
"Get in there."  
  
Unwillingly, Draco walked into the room. "What the fuck do you plan to." he stopped. The almost imperceptible sound told him that the door had closed behind him. Harry was gone, leaving him here. Alone.  
  
The light from the bulb went out suddenly and Draco was left in darkness. The night closed in around him oppressively. Waving his hand in front of his eyes, Draco couldn't even see a faint outline. It may have only been his imagination but he could have sworn that he heard a faint whining sound overhead.  
  
His voice, when he spoke, thankfully, only had the slightest tremor. "I see what you're doing, Potter. Ingenious torturing method. Trying to make the man go crazy."  
  
"Correct."  
  
Draco jumped. The voice seemed to come from everywhere, a booming voice that filled every corner of the room.  
  
"You are in a Top Secret Ministry questioning centre. Nobody knows you're here. Now, Malfoy, won't you tell me what you told the Weasleys?" Now the voice had gone quiet, almost friendly.  
  
A dry laugh escaped Draco's lips. "I simply told them that the Certese had assassinated their precious Minister."  
  
"You stupid fuck," Harry's voice was quiet, controlled. "You endangered their lives for something we have under control."  
  
"Under control?" Draco repeated incredulously. "They just assassinated a Minister and you say you have them under control. Say, Potter, where do you work? The Department of Stupidity? How can you have the Certese under control?"  
  
"That's classified."  
  
"Classified is only another word for: my superiors won't tell me."  
  
"Who do you work for, Malfoy?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Who do you work for? Who told you to tell the Weasleys? Who is trying to harm them?"  
  
"You're crazy," Draco said flatly. "Can't you see that I'm on your side? I was trying to help them, for fucks sake."  
  
There was silence and then a sudden gust of wind blew into the room as the door swung open. An outline could be seen in the doorway. "Potter?" said Draco.  
  
"Tu garde encore tes petits copains enfermés ici, hein Harry?" Still keeping your lovers locked in here, are you Harry? The voice was faintly amused.  
  
"Luc! Qu'est-ce que tu fous ici, toi?" Harry's surprised tone rang throughout the room. Luc! What the fuck are you doing here?  
  
Draco slowly walked closer to the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the sudden light. From above, he heard Potter call out another phrase in French. Suddenly the man in front of him moved to block the doorway.  
  
"Don't think about getting past me." He spoke with a perfect British upper- middle class accent.  
  
"Who are you?" Draco kept on walking.  
  
"That is none of your business." Harry had appeared behind the strange man, gun pointed at Draco. "Stop moving or you'll be missing an ear."  
  
Draco stopped immediately. "Who are you?" he tried again and this time the strange man answered after a hand gesture to Harry.  
  
"I'm from French Ministry intelligence," the man's smile was cold.  
  
The surprise was evident on Draco's face. "You're from the La Societe d'Intervention Contre la Magie Noire?"  
  
The man nodded.  
  
The La Societe d'Intervention Contre la Magie Noire - Intervention Squad for Black Magic - was a notorious French spy organisation that worked under French Ministry protection. Unburdened with the traditional paperwork that came with espionage, the French intelligence agency was reputedly the most powerful in the world. It was rumoured that the Squad were responsible for the silent killings of numerous former Death Eaters after the Dark War. It was never proven though, and the French Ministry's diplomatic corps had always denied it vehemently. Its agents were silent ghosts, never to be seen by the common man until it was too late.  
  
With shock, Draco realised that Potter must have known this man, known him well if their casual greetings were any indication. Cold fear enveloped him.  
  
Luc turned to Harry, his dark brown eyes unreadable. "Why do you keep this man here if he is not your lover?" The words were in English.  
  
It was evident from the look of horror on Draco's face that he had not been expecting this turn of events. "Lover?" he spluttered.  
  
Luc regarded Draco through the corner of his right eye. "That is what I said, Mr. Malfoy." Seeing the hastily hidden surprise in Draco's eyes, he smiled again. "You wonder how it is that I know your name," he paused, "and now you wonder how I managed to know that. You have good instincts, that is true, but they street instincts and cannot hope to stand against training. I can read your face like a book."  
  
"Why are you telling me this," Draco was suspicious.  
  
The French man shrugged, "Why not?"  
  
Harry spoke, gun still levelled at Draco, "Why are you here, Luc."  
  
Luc turned around, his long Muggle-style coat sweeping around him. "I am here to talk to Mr. Malfoy. When I could not find him at his old haunts, I came here immediately, knowing that you had gotten to him first. We are confident that he will be most helpful with our enquiries."  
  
"Enquiries?" questioned Harry, gun still pointed unwaveringly at Draco though his eyes were fixed on Luc.  
  
"No doubt you know about the Certese Circle already. Well they are no longer a problem only London has to contend with. The plague is spreading, Harry. We are all tainted by the Circle. It is imperative that we speak to Mr. Malfoy. He is the only known relative of a Certese. He can help us defeat it."  
  
Silence. Then, "Mr. Malfoy seems to have already made up his mind. This afternoon, he made a visit to the family of a Ministry man and told them about the Certese. He is recklessly endangering."  
  
Luc interrupted him, "We know about that visit to the Weasleys, Harry. Do not forget the first rule of espionage. Never let your personal feelings get in the way. You are the one who has acted recklessly, my friend."  
  
Anger flared in Harry's eyes. "My friend," he mimicked, "I know this man better than you will ever know. I went to school with him. I assure you, he is not doing this for some altruistic goal. He may even be Certese himself."  
  
Luc just shook his head. They do make a cute couple, the thought involuntarily came into his mind. He hadn't planned to remark about the possibility of the two being lovers, but Luc had found out, through years of long hard experience, that people were most informative when they were wrong-footed. His comments had done just that. It was obvious that Harry was tired. Any agent on full alert would have sensed the ploy immediately.  
  
"I will make you a deal," Luc said finally.  
  
~~~~  
  
"Ron! Hey wait up, Weasley!"  
  
Ron spun around and saw his old friend Tony McInnis coming towards him carrying a bouquet of flowers.  
  
"For the wife," Tony explained with a grin as he caught up with Ron.  
  
Ron grinned back, a little uneasily. He knew who the flowers were for and they were certainly not for Judy McInnis. His old friend was a well-known womaniser whose current craze was a petite blonde who had just become an Auror. "I'm sure Judy will love them."  
  
Tony ignored his words. "Anyway, Ron, I've been meaning to speak with you. Ever since that unfortunate incident with Jack, I've been thinking." He looked at Ron expectantly but there was no response. His friend was too busy studying the footpath as they walked. "I've been thinking about who to nominate at the Board meeting this Friday and I've decided that I'm going to nominate you!"  
  
Ron's head snapped up. "What?"  
  
"I'm nominating you for the position of Minister of Magic!" Tony grinned. "I thought you'd be pleased!"  
  
"Pleased?"  
  
"You can thank me later," an impulsive grin, "I have to go now."  
  
Ron watched as Tony hurried off. In the distance, he thought he could see the blonde sitting at a café. Ron shook his head slightly and began to walk in the opposite direction from Tony.  
  
A sigh escaped his lips. Tony would never change. The handsome, good- natured rogue he had met on his very first day at the Department of Security had changed little over the years. If anybody had thought that marriage would tame him, they were very much disappointed. Though Judy was a beautiful woman, Tony would have no other kind, even her charms and graces were not enough to keep her philandering husband at home. Ron supposed he felt sorry for Judy in a way, but curiously, he could not blame Tony. Nobody ever blamed Tony for anything for the cheerful man always had a kind word and a ready smile for a sad face. Just for that, one could almost forgive his actions towards his wife.  
  
But despite a less than perfect home life, Tony had always wielded surprisingly great influence in the Ministry. His charm and good looks were always welcome with the witches and his genuine kind nature liked by all. And now he was nominating Ron for the position of Minister of Magic.  
  
Minister of Magic. The three words echoed in his mind.  
  
Like all young witches and wizards, at one stage of his youth, Ron had dreamt of becoming something, of becoming someone, of making a change in the world. He had looked at the position of Minister of Magic with stars in his eyes and wished with all his heart to fill it. But like most other people, this desire had petered out and more realistic goals and ambitions had taken its place.  
  
But now he was being given the chance, the opportunity, to fulfil his childhood dreams, Ron didn't know what to do. The tingle of childhood ambition had returned. The more Ron thought about the possibility, the more the tingle grew.  
  
Ronald Weasley, Minister of Magic.  
  
A frightening thought, a terrifying thought even, but a strangely exhilarating thought.  
  
But what about Jack? A part of Ron's conscious detached itself from tumour of ambition and began to question. Don't you owe him something? Besides, you wouldn't be a good Minister. Not nearly diplomatic enough. Who would want you as minister anyway? The whispers cut at his self-esteem.  
  
There was no point in thinking about it anyway, Ron decided as he abruptly swerved into a dark alleyway. He would deal with the opportunity when it arose. If it arose. After all, Tony was notorious for playing practical jokes on people.  
  
Ron's eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden dimness as his gaze flicked over the redbrick until he came to one with a slight indent in the shape of an oval on it. Ron took out his wand and tapped the indent. Immediately the wall shifted and a tall archway emerged. It was a special entrance for Ministry employees.  
  
Going through the archway, Ron could see that he was only a few metres away from the great glass double doors of Ministry Headquarters. As he went into the Ministry building, acquaintances and friends greeted him cordially.  
  
"Nice lunch, sir?" his secretary Bernice said as he entered his office.  
  
Ron smiled briefly, still somewhat distracted from the surprising news from Tony. "Definitely. Should you ever feel the craving for Muggle food, that is. Do you have the files I asked for?"  
  
Bernice handed him a sheaf of papers, "All nicely sorted according to dates."  
  
"Thanks," Ron said absentmindedly, as he sat down with the papers. Glancing upwards, he noticed that Bernice was still standing there. "Why don't you go and have lunch," he suggested.  
  
She beamed at him. "Why thank you, sir." Picking up her large handbag, Bernice left, leaving Ron alone.  
  
Ron looked at the papers. The Malfoy Case. Ordered from oldest to most recent, it said on the note, which was stuck on the front page of the papers, in Bernice's neat rounded writing. He undid the clasp of the paper folder and began to browse through the files.  
  
It was surprising to note that the oldest Malfoy file dated not from the beginning of the Dark War but from a good ten years before. Ron was more surprised, however, when the file made no mention of the Malfoys, but was simply about a mysterious death of a Auror. At the end of the file, there was another note from Bernice. I'm not sure, sir, what significance this has to do with the Malfoys, but it was contained within a Top Secret file on Lucius Malfoy. You asked for "every file that can be found on the Malfoys" so I had to use my contact within the Information Files Department to extract this particular file.  
  
Ron stared at the file. What was so Top Secret about it? Involuntarily, his mind went back to the visit made by Draco Malfoy the day before. He had said that his father worked for the Certese, doing "wet work". So, perhaps this file was about a killing that was attributed to Lucius Malfoy?  
  
He frowned. But then that would mean someone high up in the Ministry knew about the Certese Circle, knew about the Malfoy involvement in it, and managed to get a Top Secret clearance for the file to hide the evidence. If that were true, then perhaps everything else said by the younger Malfoy was true too. Perhaps the conspiracy he hinted at was well and truly active in the Ministry.  
  
Just thinking about the Certese again has placed everything back in perspective for Ron. Being nominated for the position of Minister of Magic was nothing if the whole Ministry was controlled by a covert organisation whose interests differed from those of the ordinary wizard.  
  
Of course, Ron reasoned, someone could have simply placed the file in the wrong folder. He hoped that was the case, for the alternative was too frightening for him to contemplate.  
  
~~~~  
  
Molly Weasley cried almost every day. She cried whenever the well of sadness that lived within her bubbled up beyond her fragile control. She cried whenever she read on The Daily Prophet about any happenings in the Ministry. She even cried whenever her daughter Ginny came over to visit.  
  
Looking upon her daughter's face, Molly imagined she saw vestiges of Ginny's friendship with Hermione. It was a friendship that was borne not out of mutual respect or interests, but rather it was borne out of necessity, for neither of the two women had any other friends. Molly knew this and she wept.  
  
Her constant red and swollen eyes pained her, but she could not stop crying. Molly knew that she was becoming a burden on her family. But this made her cry harder. She cried because she knew she was the only one who understood the true consequences the birth of Hermione's child would bring. She cried because nobody else tried to understand.  
  
But mostly Molly Weasley cried because she knew that she was right.  
  
~~~~  
  
Draco held his breath as they emerged from a different entrance to the building into the still-dark streets of London. A faint pinkish gleam could be seen from the horizon, signalling the coming of a new day. Luc had left some hours before, leaving behind a very grumpy Harry Potter.  
  
Harry had taken the deal that Luc offered, and that deal was the reason why they were now moving surreptitiously through the streets of Muggle London. Luc had promised to meet them at a French Ministry safehouse on the outskirts of London. Getting there was a bother though. Draco couldn't Apparate, for his Apparating licence was revoked automatically two years back because of non-use. Flying was a non-option because of the attention they would receive. Finally, Harry had agreed that they would take the Muggle Underground provided that they wear his new model Invisibility Cloak that blocked out sounds that came from within the Cloak.  
  
Draco discovered that the surroundings had a surreal look and feel under the light veil-like Cloak. Nothing could be seen with complete clarity, yet he knew exactly what and where everything was.  
  
Harry's breath tickled the fine hairs at the back of Draco's neck as they edged forward slowly, bodies pressed together. Draco could still feel the hardness of the Lupo pressing into his lower back. or was it something else? The old wizard taunt came back to him. Is that your wand or are you just happy to see me? Involuntarily, he also thought of what Luc had said about him and Potter being lovers.  
  
"Don't think about it Malfoy," Potter's voice broke into his thoughts. "Luc was trying to." he broke off.  
  
"Trying to what?" Draco asked. Behind him, he could feel Potter breathe in deeply.  
  
"Nothing, Malfoy," his voice was tired.  
  
There was a short silence. They had gotten onto the London Underground and were now standing in a dark secluded corner, Invisibility Cloak still over them.  
  
"How did you know that I had contacted the Weasleys anyway?" Draco finally asked. The question had been irritating him for over six hours now. He had taken precautions damn it!  
  
Harry's smile was evident in his tone. "Our equipment is sophisticated."  
  
"And who might this our be?"  
  
"Beyond anything your imagination could comprehend," was Harry's only answer. 


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The World of Espionage  
  
"Try me," Draco said bluntly. Behind him, he heard Harry shift slightly against the wall. There was a silence. "Don't you trust me?"  
  
Harry laughed - it was a harsh middle-aged laugh that didn't suit his twenty-eight years. "It's not a matter of trust." His voice was quiet.  
  
"Well then, what is it a matter of?" Draco demanded. He was being intentionally belligerent. "National security?"  
  
"Precisely. We exist to ensure the safety of the Wizarding World. Without us, our world would have been exposed to the Muggles a long time ago. We'd have been eradicated or, at best, locked up like animals. We are not the enemies of the Wizarding World. On the contrary, we are its best chance for survival."  
  
"Did they make you memorise that or just brainwash you?" Draco sneered. "What happened to all the Muggle-loving sentiments I'm used to hearing from you sanctimonious Gryffindors?"  
  
Harry sighed. "Malfoy, I'm not brainwashed. Nor do I hate Muggles. You wouldn't understand our work. It's too delicate."  
  
"But who are you? Or what are you?"  
  
"If I give you our name, would that help?"  
  
"No," Draco admitted. "But it is a start. Are you really trying to tell me that you belong to some clandestine group that is secretly watching over us?" He paused. "And here I was thinking that the great Harry Potter was a simple Ministry worker when, in fact, he's a professional killer!"  
  
There was no way Draco could have predicted Harry's reaction. With lightning fast reflexes, Harry's hand came around and now had a vice-like grip around his neck. Draco found that he could no longer breathe.  
  
"I am not a killer."  
  
"So what are you trying to do to me then?" Draco wheezed, trying to struggle out of the iron grip.  
  
The grip relaxed. "That was a warning."  
  
Draco rubbed his throat with his left hand thoughtfully. The quickness of that reaction had surprised him. Why had Harry reacted so brutally and efficiently? Who was he working for? He barely contained the wince as he felt the Lupo dig further into his back.  
  
"Our stop," Harry said.  
  
Draco grimaced as he inched forward, making deliberately slow movements. He didn't want to accidentally bump into a Muggle.  
  
"Walk into that corner," Harry said softly into his ear.  
  
Together, they took measured synchronised steps towards the corner.  
  
Draco stifled a small smile of nostalgia that threatened to appear on his face. This was beginning to remind him of his first time walking through a solid barrier at King's Cross Station.  
  
It was quite an unusual feeling walking into that particular wall. There wasn't the normal feeling of going through a barrier, rather, Draco felt like all the atoms in his body were being rearranged.  
  
"French design," Harry said shortly, seemingly reading Draco's mind. "They enjoy that feeling." He emerged from under the cloak, still pointing the gun at Draco, and after a slight pause, Draco also removed the cloak.  
  
They had appeared in a long, narrow, low-ceilinged room, with a door at one end, and that had an extended conference table in its middle. Luc was sitting at the end of the table nearest to the door, regarding them through half-closed eyes. "Welcome, my British friends." He waved his wand slightly and the table filled with food. "We will discuss the deal while you experience our French hospitality." There was just the slightest emphasis on the word hospitality.  
  
Draco sat down gingerly, three seats down from the French man. He eyed Harry's gun warily. Harry chose to stand.  
  
Luc smiled lazily at Harry. "Why won't you sit down?"  
  
Harry ignored him. "I trust you will uphold our deal."  
  
"Of course, but first, I must insist that you eat." Luc smiled again.  
  
"Oh Luc," Harry said sorrowfully. "Do you think so little of me? Do you really think that I would eat from the plate of a foreign agent?"  
  
"I miscalculated." Luc's cat-like demeanour disappeared as he became brisk. "We get Draco Malfoy, and in return, your Weasley friends get the full protection of the Squad."  
  
Harry shook his head and there was a spark of surprise in Luc's eyes. "I've changed my mind. I want the Weasleys to get full protection from the French diplomatic corps."  
  
"Don't you trust us?" Luc was blunt.  
  
"No."  
  
"What is going to happen to me?" Draco burst out angrily. "Am I just going to be left in the protection of the Squad?"  
  
"Why yes!" Harry gestured with the Lupo. "Do you have a problem with that arrangement?"  
  
Draco fell silent. Guns, after all, do speak louder than words.  
  
~~~~  
  
The owl was perched on Hermione's windowsill for quite sometime before she noticed it. It was a while later before she realised that it wasn't simply going to drop the letter off but that it was waiting for something. The owl was a normal, nondescript barn owl that was merely sitting there preening its feathers. However, Hermione soon realised as she took the letter and slit it open, the letter it held was anything but normal.  
  
With eyes widening, Hermione read the letter once and immediately her eyes flicked back to the beginning to read again.  
  
Dear Mrs. Hermione Weasley,  
It is our duty to inform you that you are currently in danger. You already know of this danger and we cannot elaborate further in this letter. Some of our people will be coming around shortly to escort you to a safehouse where you will be, as the name suggests, hopefully safe from most dangers. Your husband, Mr. Ronald Weasley, is being escorted there as you read this letter.  
Rest assured that you have the full protection of the Squad.  
The Director  
  
The letter itself looked quite normal, written on unadorned cream parchment, but what it contained was nothing short of shocking. She had the full protection of the Squad?  
  
If Hermione remembered correctly, the Squad was a notoriously brutal French spy agency that operated swiftly and silently. Since it was usually only known to the spook community, Hermione had only heard whispers about its far-reaching power and influence.  
  
She felt her stomach flop like a flobberworm. Obviously it was no light matter they wanted to talk about. And what was the danger? Paling slightly, Hermione remembered the warning about the Certese Circle. Did Draco Malfoy put her in this much danger by simply telling her about that organisation? She hoped not.  
  
Hermione jumped as she heard a sharp knock on her front door. Hesitating slightly, she held her wand in front of her body as she peered around her kitchen corner. She could just make out two shadowy figures outlined in the opaque glass. Walking up to the door, she opened the door slightly.  
  
A man and a woman stood on her porch. Both were wearing Muggle clothes.  
  
"How can I help you?" Hermione asked, knowing that her voice was quavering slightly.  
  
"Mrs. Weasley," the woman said briskly, her English precise and proper. "I presume you have seen our letter by now. We are here to escort you to someplace safe."  
  
"And how do I know you're who you say you are," asked Hermione suspiciously.  
  
The man's lips curled up into a wry smile. "You mean you are not sure whether we are Certese? Well, if we were, you would be dead by now, Mrs. Weasley. We suggest very strongly that you trust us." The smile disappeared. "We would not like to use undue force."  
  
Hermione gulped slightly. She had heard stories about people who didn't cooperate with the Squad and she didn't want to end up like them: missing. "Certainly!" She tried to smile but it came out twisted. "If you'd just wait a minute."  
  
"We would rather not." The man reached for the door and pulled it wide open but not before Hermione had tucked her wand up her sleeve, as a precaution. "After you, Mrs. Weasley." He indicated the pathway with a flourish of his hand.  
  
As Hermione walked slowly down her front pathway towards the tinted Muggle car parked in the street, she realised something strange about the pair. Both spoke English perfectly (almost textbook English) with absolutely no trace of a French accent. Very unusual, she thought to herself, filing that information away.  
  
"Where are we going?" she asked.  
  
"Do not worry yourself, Mrs. Weasley. You will be safe."  
  
It wasn't until Hermione was seated in the car that she realised that they had never answered her question.  
  
~~~~  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry's voice was deceptively quiet. It was the voice of a trained man, a professional, somebody who could never afford to lose his temper because of the consequences. But Luc could tell that Harry was furious, both as a professional and on another more personal level.  
  
"The Squad has already dispatched a team to collect the Weasleys." Luc glanced at his watch. "I believe they will be arriving any minute now."  
  
"I insist you transfer their protection to the diplomatic corps immediately when they arrive here. Or our deal is off."  
  
Luc smiled amiably. "My dear Harry, you cannot begin to presume that I am so ignorant or forgetful. We made a magical pact; that cannot be broken lightly."  
  
Harry's only response was a narrowing of his eyes.  
  
As if on cue, the door next to them burst open and the Weasleys were pushed through it none-too-gently. The door closed behind them.  
  
"For Merlin's sake, my wife is pregnant! You could be gentler!" Ron was exclaiming heatedly when he spotted Harry. His mouth dropped open. "Harry?"  
  
"Hello," replied Harry, guardedly.  
  
"What on earth are you doing here? What are we doing here? What is this place?" The string of questions erupted from Ron's mouth as he regarded his friend in shock.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ron, I'm afraid I can't tell you. The letters you and Hermione were sent contain all we can tell you. You will be safe here." At these last words, Harry shot Luc a dirty look.  
  
Luc gave a brief nod in return, stood up and held out a chair. "Will you not sit down, Mrs. Weasley?" he asked courteously.  
  
There was a brief pause and then Hermione seated herself with a curt: "Thank you."  
  
"But Harry!" Ron said angrily. "This type of stress is not good for Hermione. She should be home, relaxing. The danger is ridiculous anyway. Our home is perfectly safe; it's fitted with the latest Ministry security equipment!"  
  
"Like the Minister's office was?" Harry said quietly. "You will be safer here."  
  
"But.." Ron stopped. He had just spotted Draco. "What is he doing here?"  
  
"He is helping us with his enquiries," Luc answered smoothly. "Won't you sit down, Mr. Weasley? We should talk." He clapped his hands sharply.  
  
There was a small pop and a house elf appeared beside the table. It was wearing a small knitted tea cosy. Bowing, it asked: "What do Masters want?"  
  
"I wish you to escort Mrs. Weasley to our drawing room. I am sure she will be more comfortable there. Then you should escort Mr. Malfoy.."  
  
Harry interrupted him. "I will escort Malfoy to a suitable holding cell." He gestured with the gun. "Move."  
  
"Blimey, Harry!" Ron had just spotted the weapon. "I never knew you were into those Muggle things. Isn't it kind of dangerous?"  
  
Harry gave a tight laugh. "Yes, Ron, it is somewhat dangerous." Prodding Draco in the back, they exited the room.  
  
Hermione looked at her husband and then she looked at Luc. "If you don't mind, I would like to remain." Her voice was quiet, but brooked no argument. At least, not to Luc.  
  
Ron, apparently, thought differently. "But Hermione-love, I am sure what we are about to discuss will bore you anyway. Why don't you go to the drawing room like he suggested? I'll come to find you later."  
  
With an angry gesture, Hermione pushed her chair back, making a loud scraping noise. "Since, you obviously know what is better for me, I will be in the drawing room then." She looked at the house elf and then knelt down to look at it eye-to-eye, "Would you like to show me where it is?"  
  
It nodded fervently and with a knobbly hand, grabbed Hermione's own and dragged her away.  
  
"Cheeky little bugger, that house elf," Ron commented when the door had closed behind them. "They aren't usually so impertinent."  
  
Luc smiled, "I'm glad you noticed. They double as security guards." He held out his hand. "We have yet to be introduced. My name is Luc."  
  
Ron took his hand and shook it. It was a politician's handshake, brisk and friendly. "As you seem to already know, I'm Ron Weasley. Now, can you tell me why we have been summoned here to. well, what looks like French holding house?"  
  
Luc smiled faintly. "Mr. Weasley, do you not believe me? I have already told you everything in the letter you hold in your pocket."  
  
"Damn right, I don't believe you!" Ron slammed his fist down on the table and glared at the other man. "Give me one reason why I should believe you?" He folded his arms and sat back in his chair, eyes flashing.  
  
Luc skirted the question. "Mr. Weasley, do you believe that we mean to harm you? Do you believe that Harry means to harm you?"  
  
Ron closed his eyes briefly. "I'm not sure what to believe any more," he said gruffly, "and please, call me Ron."  
  
"Ron, we are here to help you. We are trying to stop the Certese from getting to you. Mr. Malfoy did not know how much danger he was putting you and your wife into when he told you about that organisation."  
  
"But I can't just stay here!" Ron exclaimed. "I have my job at the Ministry! A responsibility!"  
  
"Ah!" Luc smiled slightly. "I believe you are the one tipped to be the next Minister, if my sources within the British Ministry are correct. Tell me, Mr. Weasley, would you prefer that you stay alive to receive that position?"  
  
"Of course I would - " Ron stopped abruptly. "How'd you know that? You mean to say you have spies in our Ministry? We have moles?"  
  
An expression of surprise flitted over Luc's face. He had forgotten for a minute that he wasn't talking to somebody of his own calibre. The man sitting in front of him, despite his knowledge of politics and the state, was a novice when it came to espionage. Luc berated himself for letting his guard down. "Yes," he answered in a neutral tone, "and your British spies have operatives in our Ministry."  
  
"But our countries are friends!"  
  
"For a politician, Mr. Weasley, you are surprisingly naive."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Luc smiled to himself. A little motivation won't go astray here, he thought. "On the surface our countries are friends, yes. Both diplomatically and militarily. But this does not mean that we do not keep tabs on one another. It is in the tradition of espionage. But the tabs we keep are friendly. Quite unlike that of the Certese Circle. It is through our British links that we have found out that they plan on eradicating the world of Muggle-borns. Tell me, my friend, would you like your pretty little wife to be 'eradicated'?"  
  
Ron's face grew purple before he visibly took hold of himself. "The British Ministry Security Department is perfectly able to look after itself," he said sharply.  
  
"Is it really, Mr. Weasley?" Luc smiled again as the question hung in the air.  
  
Ron didn't reply.  
  
~~~~  
  
"What a-are you doing?" Draco was disgusted that he couldn't keep the quaver out of his voice.  
  
"Never you mind." A silky smile from Harry was thrown in his direction.  
  
Once out of the conference room, Harry had prodded him in the small of his back with his gun the entire way down a long and dark corridor. Curiously enough, however, the corridor seemed to be well heated, which was more than Draco could say for the room he was currently in. Harry had pushed Draco onto the sole chair in the centre of the room where the manacles had immediately locked themselves onto his wrists and ankles. Now the other man seemed to be putting together some implement at the other end of the room.  
  
"What are you doing with that. thing?" stammered Draco. "Aren't I in French hands now?" Silently he berated himself for getting into the prisoner mentality. He had seen so many Muggles at the hands of the Dark Lord begging to be allowed to live for simply one more day, kissing the hem of his robes, offering themselves. Draco had promised himself that he would never succumb to that particular indignity.  
  
"I won't hurt you Malfoy." There was just the slightest hint of a stress on the word hurt.  
  
"Then what the fuck are you doing?" Draco burst out.  
  
Harry turned cold eyes towards him. "Not everything revolves around you." He turned back and continued to put various implements in his pockets.  
  
"You're stealing from the Squad?" Draco spluttered in disbelief as he finally realised what was going on. "That is completely, utterly, certifiably.."  
  
"Insane?" Harry finished for him.  
  
"I thought these people were your friends!"  
  
Harry spun around so quickly that it made Draco's head spin. "Friends, Malfoy? Do you truly believe that in this business I would have any friends? Luc is an acquaintance, that is all."  
  
"I submit that I was something different the last time we met, Harry."  
  
Draco turned his head slightly and saw the lazy cat-like figure of Luc lounging by the door. The other man's eyes glittered.  
  
Harry gave no sign of surprise. "Luc," he said quietly, inclining his head but not failing to keep his eyes trained on the other man. "We are professionals, are we not?" Not waiting for an answer, Harry continued: "Nothing more, nothing less."  
  
Draco was confused, to put it mildly. The two men were staring at each other from opposite sides of the room and by Merlin! the intensity of their gaze was unlike anything Draco Malfoy had ever seen before. The cold green eyes matched only by the dark emptiness of the dark brown ones. Involuntarily his stomach gave a rumble. Immediately, the two men looked away from each other.  
  
Luc's gaze wandered down to what Harry's hands were holding. "Thinking of stealing from the Squad, are you?" he sneered. "Serpent!"  
  
Harry calmly put down the Uzi submachine gun he was holding. "No more than you were going to kill Malfoy as soon as I left, Marseilles."  
  
"He was going to kill me?" Draco asked, his voice changing from its normal tone to a high-pitched panic. "And you weren't gonna do anything about it?" His eyes bugged out of his head as he strained on the restraints holding him.  
  
"There is no use struggling," Luc said, almost conversationally. "Those manacles around your arms and legs are magical. The more you struggle. well, let us just say the more truthful you become."  
  
"Malfoy!" Harry's voice was sharp: a thread of panic visible. "Stop struggling!"  
  
"Why?" Draco sneered. "You were going to simply leave me here at the mercy of these bastards! Pitiful, really, betraying a fellow countryman to enemy agents merely because of a schoolyard spite." His face clouded over for a second before he muttered to himself. "I thought France was our ally."  
  
"Stop it, Malfoy!" Harry snapped. "I mean it. Stop being an arrogant shit and just listen for once. There is scopolamine in the restraints."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Allow me, Mr. Malfoy," Luc broke in. "Scopolamine is a crude Muggle truth serum. Nowhere near as effective as its magical counterpart, but nevertheless. it does have some benefits." He laughed cruelly. "This was a special batch, made especially to be absorbed through the skin."  
  
Draco finally stopped struggling but still looked up with narrowed eyes at the other two men. "So, what are you going to do now?"  
  
"Really, Serpent, I would have thought you would have a better taste in companions. This one is . terribly unprofessional."  
  
Harry didn't respond. "Tell me, Marseilles, how long have you been working for them?" His voice was flat, even, and completely emotionless. "What did they offer you? Protection? Money? Fame? The Circle can't protect you forever and the Squad never forgets."  
  
"Do you not think that I know that, my old friend. I do this not for myself but for." Luc broke off and clapped his hands briskly twice.  
  
Harry, however, was quicker. In one lightening-fast motion, he grabbed the assembled Uzi from the table and pulled the trigger. There was a deafening sound as Luc's body became riddled with bullets, jerking in mid-air. The door crashed open and two armed men burst in, guns blazing. Harry ducked and fired another round at the two men who collapsed onto the ground.  
  
Draco's mouth fell open, in both surprise and horror. This was the quiet, unassuming boy he had known and hated during his schooling years. The murderer he now saw in front of his eyes was an old classmate and of all things a Gryffindor!  
  
The Uzi was placed upon the table again as Harry hurried over to undo Draco's restraints. The other man immediately shied away. "Malfoy, I am not going to hurt you. What I did was necessary." The words were quiet.  
  
"But you just. killed them!"  
  
"And you don't think they would have done the same to me?" Harry sighed. "Once a man is bought, there is no bringing him back. I once knew Marseilles - Luc - very well." he trailed off.  
  
"You tried to kill me last night!" Draco accused.  
  
"I won't deny that and I apologise for my hasty action. I will explain everything later, right now we need to get out of this building." Harry swiftly undid Draco's restraints by hand and dragged the other man up. "Can you walk?" he asked tersely.  
  
Stumbling slightly, Draco answered: "Barely."  
  
"That'll have to do."  
  
As Draco followed Harry out of the room, a thought occurred to him. "What about the Weasleys?"  
  
Harry stopped suddenly. "I don't believe it is in the Squad's best interest to have either Ron or Hermione killed right now. Neither do I believe that it is in the Circle's best interest. Ronald Weasley is well placed to become the next Minister and his wife is very influential in scientific circles, both Muggle and magical."  
  
Draco was incredulous. "Not that either are my friends or anything, but you are simply going to leave them there? After you just killed three Squad members?"  
  
The other man closed his eyes briefly. "Damn you Malfoy. I don't have enough time to explain all this. But think! If the Circle thought that you were important enough to capture, then I will not argue with them."  
  
"But then why did you bring me here? Why did you bring them here?"  
  
"Be quiet!" Harry's voice was harsh. He could tell that the other man, unused to such violence, was nearing hysterics. "Did you think I had a choice about it? If I had protested, then Marseilles would have had me killed. I knew something was up the moment he stepped into the questioning centre. The top secret British Ministry questioning centre! What else was I do?"  
  
"Not give me up to those lunatics!" was the hissed reply. "By the way, where the fuck are we going anyway?"  
  
"We are going to meet my controllers. They will question you appropriately. Now unless you wish for us to be discovered here, tortured and then brutally murdered, I suggest you shut up." Harry's tone was light but his words piercing.  
  
Draco Malfoy shut up.  
  
~~~~  
  
The petite blonde smiled disarmingly at the older man who currently was enraptured by her eyes. Dark brown eyes, so strange on one with such light coloured hair. "Tony!" she murmured softly as her expert fingers stroked.  
  
He ran his fingers through her hair as his mouth sought hers. When he came up for air, there was a shy, almost goofy smile on his face. "You are beautiful," he whispered into her ear.  
  
She simply smiled, and reaching over to the small side-table, grabbed the glass of clear absinthe. "Drink up, my love."  
  
Tony smiled adoringly at her as he reached for his own glass and downed the contents. "You have such lovely eyes."  
  
"I'm glad you think so, Mr. McInnis."  
  
Tony jerked his head up, startled. Standing over the couch was a man he had never seen before. He also had a gun pointing towards the pair. Tony began to shake, but whether it was from fear, or alcohol, he couldn't tell.  
  
"Finally!" the woman at Tony's side said angrily, as she sat up and adjusted her clothes. Standing up, she glanced down at Tony. "Sorry lover- boy but I gotta go. I'm sure you understand." Leaning down, she blew him a kiss.  
  
"Get out of here," the other man, ordered her and she quickly complied.  
  
"W.what do you want?" Tony asked, his voice quavering and his hands fumbling for his money-belt. "Here," he thrust the contents at the man, "I have twelve Galleons! Take it!"  
  
The man looked disdainfully at the meagre contents. "I do not want your money, Mr. McInnis. I merely wish to talk with you for a few minutes."  
  
Tony couldn't help looking nervously at the weapon. "Is that Muggle thing really necessary?"  
  
"Of course!" the man smiled coldly. "Do you forget that this is a Muggle hotel? There are many crazed Muggles out there. Who is to say that some poor wizard, engaged in some . extracurricular activities might not get caught in the crossfire."  
  
An audible gulping sound came from Tony. "Then what do you want?"  
  
"Merely to talk. Nothing else. I am to understand that you wish to nominate Ronald Weasley for the position of Minister of Magic." Tony nodded his assent as the man continued. "For you and your family's continued safety, I suggest that you give your endorsement to Mr. Weasley's superior instead."  
  
"And what if I refuse?"  
  
"Well we would hate for your Judy to receive these photographs, wouldn't we?" The man took out of his pocket four large, colour, moving photographs depicting Tony and the blonde woman in some very. intriguing positions and threw them on the bed.  
  
Tony turned pale and immediately tore them apart.  
  
"Did you think they were the only copies? We have much more, Mr. McInnis. I assure you, we most definitely have many more. And they are not simply of you and that girl. We would hate Judy to see some of your other more unusual conquests of late, wouldn't we?" The man smiled coldly. "Do not contact your Ministry about this meeting, or there will be consequences. And remember, you will not endorse Ronald Weasley as a candidate." And with those words and a sweeping of his trench coat, the man was gone, leaving a very much shaken Tony McInnis behind.  
  
Author Notes: Thank you very much to my beta reader Heather who had to put up with my overly-formal dialogue and terrible descriptions. I suppose my dialogue is formal because most of these people are professionals and they're in (mostly) unusual conditions. Under those conditions, people will either revert to childish babble or to overly formal language. Also, many (such as Luc) are foreigners speaking English and this would be to their detriment, as they would have learned textbook English. And lastly, I plead ignorance. I really do speak like that! (and so do many people I know)  
  
Also, thank you to all my LJ friends (you know who you are) who helped me with my atrocious punctuation. Again, I plead ignorance. I really didn't know!  
  
Last but not least, thank you to everyone who has ever read and/or reviewed this story. You guys keep me going. Sorry for the long time between chapters. 


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